Zapped

Just over 2 weeks ago I started with my radiation treatments. From start to finish there are 25 treatments. Viborg Hospital doesn't have a facility for radiation but luckily Herning hospital opened their new facility over the summer. Why luckily? Well, for me, it means that I only have to drive 30 min to my treatment - had they not opened I would have been driving over an hour each way to Aarhus instead.

Each morning for the last 2-1/2 weeks I have gotten up at 6:30 am to be in the car at 7:00 for the drive to Herning. The first few days it was light when I left the house but that's no longer the case - darkness has descended upon Denmark. I have had 15 treatments to date, which means there are only 10 left - woohoo! I have to say that all in all the drive hasn't been as awful as I feared.

Before all of this started, 'radiation' was just a word. I knew it was a treatment of some kind but I honestly had no idea what it was. As it turns out, it's rather uneventful. Radiation is basically a high-intensity x-ray. The treatment itself doesn't hurt a bit, but you can end up with skin that looks like it's been sunburned and that has now started for me. So far, not too bad, but there are still 10 to go!

This is how it all goes down each morning... (all times approximate!)

6:30 - get up and shower while Ole and the dogs stay in bed
7:00 - drive to Herning dodging potato tractors along the way (more about that later)
7:30 - arrive at the hospital and swipe my card to let them know I'm there
7:35 - go to cubby area and get my bag that contains my hospital shirt
7:36 - sit and page through year-old gossip magazines and will the door to the nurses to open
7:45 - door opens, my name is called
7:45 - go to changing room, remove clothes from waist up and put on hospital shirt
7:46 - nurse opens back door of changing room and leads me to treatment room
7:47 - remove hospital shirt and lay on machine
7:48 - lay on machine table with green laser lights shooting from all angles of the room
7:48 - listen to nurses tell me, in danish, to move my butt a little to the right and my shoulders a little to the left, etc., until I'm properly lined up in the machine.
7:51 - nurse says "94" which I assume is some setting specific to me
7:52 - music is turned on and nurses tell me they're leaving the room now and to lay still
7:52 - panic for a second while I figure out whether or not breathing is permitted while laying still
7:53 - lay there while machine makes funky noises and spaceship like parts move around me
7:55 - have obligatory hot flash while laying there
7:55 - nurses re-enter room and tell me it's now okay to move
7:56 - ride machine back to starting position
7:57 - sit up and put on hospital shirt
7:58 - walk to changing room, remove hospital shirt, put on burn cream, get dressed
7:59 - deliver bag with hospital shirt back to cubby room
8:00 - leave hospital and drive home

So, there you have it, all you ever wanted to know... and lots of things you probably never cared about.

A Tale of Two Lexis

You know how, on Facebook, when one of your friends comments on another person's photos, sometimes those photos show up on your own sidebar? For example, I have seen literally hundreds of pictures of Leonbergers because Amy own Leonbergers and happens to be friends with lots of other people who own Leonbergers. (I honestly never knew there were so many Leonbergers in the world!)

So one day I'm surfing Facebook and I suddenly see a picture, in my sidebar, of a dog that looks amazing similar to one of my own. A friend had commented on this woman's dog, which placed that picture into my own sidebar, and as soon as I saw the picture I had to take a look. Upon opening the picture, I nearly fell off my chair - the dog's name was Lexi, and for those who read my posts regularly, you know that MY dog's name is Lexi.

Ready to be a bit freaked out?

This is the 'other' Lexi	This is my Lexi
This is the 'other' Lexi	This is my Lexi

My Lexi is not a purebred dog, by any means! And that's what makes this all the more unusual, at least to me. Lexi's mother is a purebred golden retriever, and her father is a black labrador. The two dogs were bred and when the puppies popped out looking like neither mom or dad, it was then determined that the black labrador was part german shepard; hence Lexi's coloring.

After I saw the pictures of the 'other' Lexi, I just had to write a note to the woman who owned this dog. She wrote back after comparing the pictures and was as surprised as I was how similar the dogs appeared. But wait... there's more!

The 'other' Lexi with a cat	My Lexi with my cat, Petey
The 'other' Lexi with a black labrador friend	My Lexi with my Zoe

I will leave you with one last bit of trivia about the two Lexi's - their birthdays:

My Lexi: June 7, 2008
The 'other' Lexi: Born June 1, 2008

Yep, 6 days apart.

Breaking the Benzine Barrier

Long, long, ago in a land far, far away, I regularly took my car to the gas station. I didn't really think much about it, just drove up, stuck the card in the machine and followed the on-screen instructions. Voila, gas flowed, car filled, receipt spewed out and I was on my way.

Then I moved. Far. To a foreign land. A land where they call it 'Benzine'. A land where the pumps don't look the same as the pumps I was accustomed to. These weren't tall sleek pumps with a credit card machine on each pump. No, no. They were short, and squat and, at many of the stations, there was just one machine in the center. A machine I feared.

I generally avoid doing things that would make me appear to be a complete fool; unless I admit up front that I will be a complete fool trying it, and then it's okay. But this was different. This was one of those things that everyone already knows - unless you're 13 - and even then, you've probably figured it out.

But the machine... with all it's funny foreignness, was daunting. What if I pushed the wrong button? Why was there only one machine with multiple pumps? Why was the lowest octane rating the 92 - that was always the highest, not the lowest! What if I somehow pushed the button for the wrong pump, would I then be paying for someone's benzine - someone that wasn't me?

But, I had a solution. I had a husband in this foreign land, one that understood the daunting machine with all it's funny little characters and words. And, he used the car much more than I ever did. And miraculously, the gar always had plenty of 'benzine' for me to consume wherever I needed to go.

So what began as just a fear grew into a bit of a challenge. How long can one live in a foreign land before one pumps their own gas?

Answer: 2 years and 11 months.

I have broken the benzine barrier and lived to tell about it. I pushed all the right buttons; I pumped the liquid gold...

Today's price after conversion = $6.68/gallon, but we prefer not to think in conversions. Instead we celebrate the fact that Benzine in Herning is only 8.95 Kr/Liter whereas the Benzine in Karup is 9.65 Kr/Liter - SCORE!

I did make a tiny fool of myself while returning the nozzle to it's holder but it would be impossible to explain. I figured it out and then scurried back to the car.

I no longer fear the machine. (okay, maybe just a little)

Hello darkness my old friend...

We had just finished dinner, Ole had left to take the dogs over to the field (the 9pm doggy play date is now the 7pm doggy play date thanks to the sun's rotation), and I was just sitting down at my work PC to call in for our weekly meeting when poof... DARKNESS.

Our power went out - causing several battery backup systems to cry out, as if we didn't know the power was out.

So I did what I tend to do best - I called Ole. Not that he could do anything about it, but hey, it is his country and who knows, maybe there's some magical switch somewhere I can flip. But no, the entire neighborhood was out.

Now one of the great things about this country is that there is no shortage of candles. As a matter of fact, I believe that one of the lines on that immigration form that I signed said something like.. Thou shalt always have tea lights burning... in Danish, of course.

I dutifully wandered throughout the living room and kitchen lighting every candle I could find. As it turns out, we have quite a few! Then I was lost. Candle lighting project complete, but what now? After wandering aimlessly in and out of our computer room, knowing full well that my trusty computer would not suddenly start working on it's own but hoping nonetheless, I finally sat down on the floor, grabbed the cat brush, and started grooming Mr. Pete. Happy cat.

As I sat on the floor I began to notice a procession of cars - one by one my neighbors were piling in and leaving. Then Ole got home and stated that Rema (the local grocery store) was still open for 15 more minutes, so we blew out all the candles and followed the crowd. I do believe all of Karup may have been at Rema as there were at least 30 people in line when we arrived, and on a normal busy day, there's about 10.

We came home to discover that power had been restored. Party!! I fired up the PC while Ole turned on the TV to catch his soccer match. All was right with the world.

But - before I could even get to Facebook, woosh, gone again. So I ran around again lighting all the candles, again, and then I sat down and read my newly purchased Alt magazine, by candlelight. By the time our power was restored again, the soccer match was over (his team won) and I had learned that attempting to access Facebook via the internet connection on my phone took much too long for it to be any fun.

Hopefully our lights are staying on this time!

Latest News

Yep, that's me - done with chemotherapy!
(And still able to make things rhyme.)

11 days ago I had my last chemo treatment and I can confidently say that the worst is over. Woo-friggin-hoo!! Yes I still have some aches and pains, but they are minor and each day I feel a bit more like my old self again.

On Friday I went for my radiation mapping, and though I swore I'd never do it, I now have 5 tattoos. Well okay, technically, they're just little teeny dots so that each time I go for radiation they can make sure I'm lying in the exact same position. Wouldn't want that zapper thingie to miss! I will go every day for 5 weeks starting on September 30th. Which means, if you do the math, I will be DONE in the first week of November.

What else have we been up to? Well, we bought a pretty new clock to provide a taste of New York and to go with our newly painted living room...


I don't think the color is 'true' in these pictures, but it's close enough that you can get the idea of what the NCS version of BM's Saybrook Sage looks like...





We had new gutters installed on the house and the current project is painting things outside. Before we started, everything was a very dark brown and we're brightening things up a bit so stay tuned for the final results!

Lastly, my Google calendar is starting to fill up with actual dates and times of social events. Before you know it, I may have something that resembles an actual social-life!

Bragging Rights...

Yep, I'm taking this moment to brag a bit about my incredibly talented oldest brother, Jeff. Not only did he write this particular piece but the second solo is him - he's the one sitting in the dark!

And yes I do realize that the video is 12 years old, but hey, youtube didn't exist back then!

The group is called "New York Trombone Conspiracy" and if you enjoyed this performance, you can find a bunch more on youtube. :)

Silver Anniversary

Today is the 25th wedding anniversary of one of our neighbors and the perfect time to explain another Danish tradition!

Last night the neighborhood was a frenzy of activity - kids running everywhere while the parents 'pretended' to drill holes in the neighbor's house. They didn't actually drill any holes but the idea is that you attempt to freak out the happy couple by pretending to destroy their house - or something.

By the time everyone went to bed, there was a beautiful 'gate of honor' at the couple's front door:


Between 6:30 and 7:00 am this morning, everyone gathered in the street in front of their house:


There was a trumpet and a flute to accompany what some would call singing...

The singing was sad. I'll give everyone credit for attempting a few tunes at this obscene hour of the morning, but let me tell you, they really needed a Ken Nelson (aka my dad), a man who can be heard miles away, to lead them in their songs. Instead, this singing sounded more like someone had woken a few mice and led them in a sad chorus. I kept thinking.. I thought this was supposed to be a happy occasion? When you have 40-50 people singing and you can still hear the flute... something is amiss! Perhaps by the time another couple on the street celebrates their 25th, I'll know the Danish better, and the tunes better, and I can attempt to lead them.

As the group started song #4, the happy couple appeared on the front stoop...


And when the singing ended, everyone was invited inside for breakfast.

While I love embracing new traditions, I must admit that to me, this ranks up there with the faulty concept of the danish birthday party. Hasn't anyone in Denmark figured out that when it's YOUR day, someone else is supposed to do all the work? The happy couple had transformed the inside of their house into a banquet hall with seating for all these people around 3 HUGE tables. I can only imagine where the tables and chairs came from - I hope they were borrowed and that it wasn't necessary to rent them or something!

Keep in mind, this was 7 am!! Which means, in order to serve breakfast to all these people, my poor neighbors were probably up at 5 am putting rolls in the oven, slicing cheese, setting out jars of marmalade, etc. I do hope that once everyone left they finally had some time alone to celebrate their anniversary!!

Note to the Danes... When Ole and I celebrate our 25th, please do come and sing to us, but, if it's not too much trouble, can you bring the breakfast with you? Oh, and some tables and chairs too? Thanks!!